She had spoken earnestly and quickly, but he laughed to assure her that he was not offended.
"So that was it, was it?"
"I think so; something like that. And you laughed too that day!"
"Yes; why did I laugh?" he demanded.
"Because you knew it was grotesque, and not to be taken at all seriously as people did take it. And then, maybe—maybe I thought it funny that you should have employed Mr. Harwood to pull the lever that sent the big hammer smashing down on the insect."
"So that was it! Well, maybe it wasn't so unnecessary after all; to be frank, I didn't think so. In my conceit I thought it a good stroke. That's a secret; nobody else knows that! Why shouldn't I have used Mr. Harwood—assuming that I did use him?"
"Can you stand any more? Shan't we talk of something else?"
Their colloquy had been longer than Sylvia found comfortable: every one knew Bassett; every one did not know her. She was a comparative stranger in the city, and it was not wholly kind in him to make her conspicuous; yet he seemed oblivious to his surroundings.
"You cast an excellent actor for an unworthy part, that's all."
"I was debasing him? Is that what you think?" he persisted.